Irreversible Consequences
by Wedjatqi
Summary: Set in AU world in which there was a very different outcome from episode Conversion, in which John's life does not entirely return to normal, and neither does Teyla's following their kiss. JT


**Title: **Irreversible Consequences

**Disclaimers**: I make no profit of any kind from this fic, please no suey!

**Spoilers**: Set in Season 3 – before Vengeance.

**Note:** AU – a Bug John story with a twist. This is my contribution to my fic tag with Gater 101, in response to her fic – "Needs".

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The Mess Hall buzzed around him, people busy arriving, gathering food, talking, shovelling food down and then rushing out again. Normal life in Atlantis; at least when there wasn't the threat of imminent destruction over head.

As he watched this flow of people through the Mess Hall John lifted the bottle of flavoured water to his lips and drank down the last of the cool liquid hungrily. Opposite him sat Rodney who was prattling on; something about starting up some training with Ronon. John mused for a moment on how beat up Rodney was gonna get, but refrained from sharing that with his friend just yet; he would save it up for later ribbing. Now, he simply nodded and raised his eyebrows in such a way that showed his interest.

Rodney moved onwards flawlessly to another subject of conversation; though surely there had to be input from at least two people for it to be considered a conversation? John simply nodded again as he tipped the water bottle upwards again, encouraging gravity to push the last remaining droplets of drink down into his mouth. Finally admitting there wasn't anymore of the drink left he slowly screwed the little plastic lid back onto the blue bottle, and as he did he took in the bizarre contrast of his blue nails and tinted fingers against the blue of the plastic bottle. On impulse he tightened his grip on the bottle, setting the sharper than normal edges of his nails into the bottle. The plastic gave a protesting cracking sound and he released his grip, withdrawing his nails, or should they really be called claws now? Small white lines had been creased into the plastic by his nails, distorting the shape of the bottle; it wasn't broken or split, but it was compromised.

Was he compromised? It was a regular thought in his mind, one which had no answer other than those in his medical records; the reports which stated that his return to humankind was complete, except for a few tiny genetic changes to appearance and agility. That was the official line; he was human again, but a few pieces of Iratus retrovirus remained in his DNA, tiny changes that were not seen to be of any real significance for him. The term 'Junk DNA' had been thrown around a lot when it had become clear that he wasn't going to turn entirely back to 'normal', but he was assured it meant nothing for him medically. Of course Carson had told him the truth in confidence; he was fine and healthy, the long term affects of the retrovirus appeared minimal, but they couldn't really explain why he had retained some elements of his conversion and not others. Carson had his theories, but they were still just that; theories.

Carson. The pain at the Doctor's loss returned to John; a sharp indefinable hurt and emptiness that had not dimmed with the passing months since his sacrifice. It was a heavy emptiness that existed to hide pain; plain and simple. John missed the man intensely and knew that pretty much everyone else felt the same, but that it was especially true for Rodney. Perhaps that was why John was humouring Rodney's daily ramblings more now; allowing the scientist to chatter away as he attempted to pretend he wasn't missing his friend, that he wasn't hurting so much.

John placed the distorted water bottle down on the table and watched as it fell over, its base no longer flat enough to support it. Idly he reached out with his blue tinged hands and began to strip the label from it, slicing through the thin plastic with the edge of his thumbnail. He kept his nails trimmed and rounded down the natural point they seemed to want to form. He had gotten quite skilled at it, though he would never admit that to anyone! It was a daily routine; working to contain and control in some small way what had happened to him.

He knew a lot of people found him unnerving to be around, though most he worked with had gotten used to his new changed appearance, as they realised that he was still the same John Sheppard; just a slightly faster, bluer shaded version. His attitude and personality had not been altered in anyway, it was simply that his appearance hadn't returned completely back to normal, oh and he could hold his own against Ronon and Teyla in a sparring match any day of the week now. Not that he sparred with Teyla anymore. It had been a difficult year with dealing with his own change, losing Carson and the gradual dying away of his friendship with Teyla.

John's eyes strayed from the denuded bottle, seeking her out across the room where she sat with Doctor Heightmeyer. John wondered how Teyla could be so close to a shrink, but then he guessed she didn't have the same reservations about herself that John did. She was open and honest about pretty much anything, even about her own change. He studied her face as surreptitiously as possible as he could through the crowded room. Her cheek bones and temples were highlighted with the same blue as his skin. Her changes had been halted slightly earlier than his, as she had been infected later than him and by the time her changes had kicked in they had been half way towards his cure. He was glad of that, but at the same time he still felt forever guilty at what he had done.

His eyes dropped to her blue lips; the first site of her change. The official story was that they had been sparring and he had, his conversion having begun, gotten too aggressive in their fighting and she had had to bite him to break his hold on her. Of course the truth that they shared with no one else except Carson was that John had kissed her during that sparring match. That he had pinned her against the wall and had forced his lips to hers. She had kissed him back, a reaction born of surprise and adrenaline which had resulted in her deepening the kiss for a single moment. It had been her downfall. The exchange of 'bodily fluids', as Carson had called it, had led to her infection with the retrovirus. John didn't know exactly when the others had discovered she was infected, but he remembered when he had. Lost into the madness of his conversion he had attacked Elizabeth and had escaped into the city. Teyla had been part of the group trying to track him down. He had taken out the men with her and moved to leave, as even in that state he hadn't wanted to hurt her, but she had tried to stop him.

The memories were hazy for him now, but they were clear enough for him to remember advancing down the stairs towards her, only to pause. Her scent had reached him, which had been an electric sensation that was far too animalistic for him to understand now, but he remembered what it had told him, what it had done to him. Her scent had cut through the usual Atlantis smells; gun oil, fabric conditioner, soap and the traces of fear from those he had already taken down. But, her scent had been highlighted to him and within it a new sparkle of sensation that had told him instantly that she was like him. He had moved towards her enthralled, that finally she might respond to him as he had hoped; for she was like him now. She had fired a round from her P90 at his feet, but he had ignored it and had advanced further towards her, knowing that what was changing him was already changing her.

The gun had wavered in her hands as he had approached, and he had seen her lick her lower lip; had seen the blue tinged tongue over the darker than normal lips. He had pushed aside the P90 and she had let it fall to her side as she had stared up at him. He swore he had been able to hear the blood flowing through her veins, felt her heart beating faster across the small space between them.

Ronon's stun blast had been both the most frustrating interruption John had ever experienced, but also the most wonderfully timed. When John had been woken later in the infirmary, his mind clear once again with the neural inhibitor, he had told Carson and Elizabeth that Teyla was infected. They had smiled slightly and said they had already discovered that fact. John had never asked how they had found out, or any of the circumstances of the progression of her change. Once he had been cured enough for him to leave the infirmary he had sought her out, to find her in the gym sparing away. He knew she had been left with some changes as he had, but when he had seen her for the first time in the bight clear lighting out of the infirmary he had halted. He had felt shocked, ashamed and aroused all at once.

He still felt guilty about what he had done to her, that her appearance was forever changed because of his actions. She had forgiven him instantly, for she especially understood the wild animal thinking the retrovirus had invoked. But, he still found it difficult. Her blue lips were forever a reminder of what he had done to her. He felt as if he had stolen some part of her humanity and through something as innocent as a kiss.

They had been separated from the same team, which he hadn't been all that surprised to hear, but was still a little angry that it had been necessary. The Powers That Be had felt that two blue tinted people on one team might 'intimidate' others. John had thought that was a load of bull, but had refrained from mentioning that, after all he still needed to prove that he was a good little soldier and not the unpredictable element they had been afraid he had become.

He thought Teyla had seemed relieved to be part of another team. She said she had forgiven him, but some part of him doubted it. She was still his friend, but there was a barrier there now. He couldn't shake the feeling that she was still annoyed with him. He was certainly annoyed at himself; for he was responsible for the loss of her former beautiful self. Not that she was any less beautiful to him now, but he guessed she might think otherwise.

He watched her talking happily with Heightmeyer and he let his gaze linger on her blue markings. He caught himself inhaling deeply as if trying, as before, to catch her scent amongst the myriad of smells of the Mess Hall. Embarrassed at his behaviour he turned back to Rodney, who hadn't stopped talking the entire time and hadn't noticed John's mind and attention had wandered elsewhere. Good old Rodney.

John reached for the bottle label and began folding in up, watching his own blue fingers and nails creasing the material. Perhaps there were some things that were irreparable, but that did not stop him wishing. He wished he hadn't kissed her, wished he hadn't let his base instincts take over. He wished they had found the cure earlier for her, wished she could have been returned to normal and then perhaps she would have stayed in the team and have remained one of his closest friends. Instead they had been left with a stilted uncomfortable friendship which was laced with guilt and remorse. He wished he didn't long for her still; didn't watch her across crowded rooms, and want to sit close to her on movie nights. She smiled and laughed at his jokes as before, but the tension was still clear to him. He wished he could make it all go away and go back to how things were before.

Rodney set down his cutlery and waved his arms dramatically. John hadn't really been listening to what he had been saying and tried to tune in again. Rodney waved his arms wider and John watched as his friend's sleeve caught against the top of his cup. John reached out with his super fast reflexes and caught the cup before it fell over. A single droplet of apple juice spilled over the brim onto John's blue fingers as they steadied the cup. Despite the guilt, the stares and the permanent changes to his looks John still loved these moments when he became as close to a super hero as he ever could. He released the cup and looked up to see the usual surprised look people gave him when he did something a little beyond the norm. Rodney quickly dropped the expression and nodded his thanks as he reached for the cup and began waving his free hand around again.

John returned his attention to the folded label in his hand and he turned to look back across the room towards Teyla once again. She was looking directly at him and he felt a sharp thrill as their eyes literally met across the crowded room. There was a short beat before she blinked, gave him a quick smile and returned her attention to Heightmeyer. The tiny amount of adrenaline that had been lingering in his bloodstream from his quick rescue of Rodney's drink, flooded into a wave. He inhaled deeply and through the myriad of food, sea air and people he could have sworn he caught her scent.

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END


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